The cable news header for the next presidential election should be “Apocalypse 2020.” So says Swamp Rabbit’s parole officer Victor C, who dropped by my shack today to make sure the rabbit was abstaining from the hard stuff.
“The army of the dead is coming,” said Victor, a Game of Thrones fan. “You can’t beat death.”
I told him to stop being such a pessimist, the Democrats sound like they’re ready to fight. Yesterday morning, word leaked that Nancy Pelosi had told colleagues that Attorney General William Barr committed a crime when he lied to the Senate Judiciary Committee. Elizabeth Warren and others have called for Donald Trump’s impeachment. Jerry Nadler threatened to hold Barr in contempt for punking out on his House Judiciary Committee appearance.
“The dead are only 30 percent of the electorate, 35 at the most, and they don’t have a Night King to lead them,” I said. “All they have is an orange warthog.”
“Yes, but the living aren’t very lively,” Victor countered. “Democrats always talk a good game, but they get wimpy when push comes to shove.”
Swamp Rat weighed in on Victor’s side. “Every time the Democrats draw a line in the sand, the Republicans step over it. Them Dems are up against the scum of the earth, but they still don’t get it.”
They get it, I told him. Trump, in order to downplay evidence that he obstructed justice during the Mueller investigation, is trying to undermine congressional oversight of the executive to the point where Congress is no longer a co-equal branch of government. He and Barr, his mouthpiece, have the support of almost all congressional Republicans, who would rather see Trump become a de facto dictator than risk the possible election of a Democratic president.
I referred the rabbit to an op-ed by former FBI director James Comey, whose theory is that Trump’s lackeys start out as good people who gradually learn he is a fraud and much worse but stay with him because they think they can serve their country despite him. Comey wrote:
Of course, to stay, you must be seen as on [Trump’s] team, so you make further compromises. You use his language, praise his leadership, tout his commitment to values. And then you are lost. He has eaten your soul.
“That’s real poetic,” Swamp Rabbit said, “but most of them peeps ain’t got no soul to begin with. They’d rather join the army of the dead than miss out on a chance for a little money and power.”
“You’ve got no room to talk,” I said. “You’d sell your soul for a shot of Jack Daniels.”
We argued for another hour. The only thing we could agree on was that Victor is right, Apocalypse 2020 is coming to a voting booth near you.